


In Which Ori Asks If They're Poor

by gooseberry



Series: the stars in our sky [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Brothers, Childhood, Family Feels, Gen, the Brothers Ri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 21:22:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/778120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gooseberry/pseuds/gooseberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once, when he was young--seven or eight--he asked Dori if they were poor. He had been thinking about it for a while: not a particularly long time, but for several days, ever since he’d asked Dori for a new toy robot and Dori had said, <i>No, Ori, not today</i>-- And <i>Not today</i> always meant <i>Not ever</i>.</p><p>---</p><p>More Brother Ri feels. It's all domesticity and brothers taking care of each other, and Dori doing his level best to raise his brothers right. (And, as always, it's lazy fic, which means it all feels with little plot.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which Ori Asks If They're Poor

Once, when he was young--seven or eight--he asked Dori if they were poor. He had been thinking about it for a while: not a particularly long time, but for several days, ever since he’d asked Dori for a new toy robot and Dori had said, _No, Ori, not today_ \-- And _Not today_ always meant _Not ever_.

“Poor?” Dori asked, and he pulled his head out of the fridge, turning around to look at Ori. Ori fidgeted in his chair, then said,

“I was just wondering--I thought, since we never really have anything--”

“No,” Dori interrupted, and he was kinda frowning at Ori, the way he always did when Ori made him mad. (Dori never yelled at him, not ever, even though Dori was always yelling at Nori; _It’s ‘cause you’re the baby_ , Nori told Ori, and Ori huffed, because he wasn’t a _baby_ anymore.) 

Nori snorted, like he always did, just before he said something that made Dori yell at him. Ori scuffed his feet across the linoleum--the toes of his shoes barely touched the floor, when he stretched as far as he could.

“We’re only a little poor,” Dori said, in a grouchy voice, and he stood up, closing the fridge with a loud _snap_. “Nothing you should be thinking about. And Ori, stop swinging your feet, you’ll scuff your shoes.”

Ori obediently drew his feet up, sitting cross-legged on the chair at the table. Dori came over to help him with his homework, and Nori made cheesy potatoes, and after dinner, they sat down and watched Harry Potter, because it was Ori’s favorite, and Dori always let him pick the movie.

Dori sent Ori off to bed before nine, which Ori thought was far too early. 

“You can stay up Friday night,” Dori said, like Dori _always_ said. He watched Ori brush his teeth, then made Ori pick out clothes for the next day. Then he tucked Ori into bed, and kissed Ori on the forehead. “Sleep well,” Dori said, and Ori said,

“Good night.”

He laid awake, looking up at the glow-in-the-dark stars Nori had stuck on his ceiling a few months ago. When he blinked, it looked like the stars were moving, like the meteor showers on the big screens at the observatory that Dori was always promising to take him to see.

He could hear Dori and Nori talking in low voices in the kitchen, Dori telling Nori to finish his homework, to go to bed early. Ori turned onto his side, face turned toward the door, and listened for the sound of the front door opening and shutting, the sound of Dori leaving to go to work.

Dori always walked Ori to and from school: in the mornings, Dori would still be in his work clothes, covered in dust from the construction site, wearing the big boots that clunked all over the apartment. 

“Hurry,” Dori would say as Ori was eating his cereal, and Dori would pack Ori’s backpack and pull the zippers all the way closed. “And your lunch money,” Dori would add, and he’d hand Ori the coins, and watch as Ori put the coins into his pocket.

Then they’d walk to the school together, side-by-side, and Dori would quiz Ori on his spelling words. Ori was good at spelling, and at math, and at history, and even at reading. He was smart--all his teachers said so, and they always drew smiley faces on Ori’s homework. Sometimes his teachers would even gave him stickers, and when Ori got home, Nori would help him take the stickers off, holding the papers over the old, dented teapot until the stickers fell off. Ori stuck the stickers all over his room, on his bedframe and on the big dresser he shared with Nori and on the door, and Dori didn’t even complain.

Ori liked school--he liked his teachers, and he liked art class, and he liked lunch time, and he liked recess. And after school, Dori was always waiting by the crosswalk, and sometimes Dori would have a surprise for Ori, a set of stickers or a new book or candy--one time, on Ori’s birthday, Dori had balloons, the big shiny kind that didn’t lose their air for weeks. Ori had kept the balloons in his room, and when the balloons stopped floating, he cut them apart carefully, the front from the back, and then he taped them up on his wall.

Dori would talk to Ori all the way home, asking, “How was school?” and “Did you learn anything?” and “What did you do?”

“We played foursquare,” Ori said, his mouth full of chocolate and caramel. “I was king for a while.”

Sometimes Ori would hold Dori’s hand, and Dori would swing their hands and smile, and sometimes, if Dori was really happy, he’d let Ori drag them to the bus stop, and they’d take the bus to the library.

“Only for a little while,” Dori would say when they walked into the library, but they’d stay for a long time. Ori would pick the books that looked the coolest--books with dragons and zombies and snakes and astronauts on the cover.

“Haven’t you read this one already?” Dori would ask, looking at one of Ori’s books, and Ori would have to sigh and say,

“No, this one is _different_.”

Then they’d ride the bus home, and Dori would hiss at Ori, “Stop reading, you’ll make yourself sick--”


End file.
